


A Girl's Room

by cheinsaw



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6089158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheinsaw/pseuds/cheinsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichirin is sick, and Futo is nervous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Girl's Room

It seems that Ichirin is sick.

You know she'll be fine; she's a strong girl, she's lived through a thousand years of small torments and still seems so happy and bubbly. She'll be fine. But it doesn't stop you from worrying, especially when you arrive at your usual meeting place and are greeted not by Ichirin, but by the little yamabiko from her temple, her floppy ears cast down and her fingers trembling around the bamboo broom's handle.

"Ichirin is sick," she says. "She really really wanted to see you, but she can't get out of bed."

"What hath befallen my lady?" you ask, alarmed.

"She just has, um, the flu?"

"Then I shall accompany thee back to thy home. I wish to see Lady Kumoi, if only to impart a blessing."

"U-u-uh..." the yamabiko trails off. "Okay? I, um, Hijiri didn't really say anything about you coming over, but I think since Ichirin likes you, it's okay." She nods once, reassuring herself.

"I have visited thy temple in the past," you remind her.

"In the past… Okay…" she says, her ears drooping. She's probably hoping with all her might that she won't get in trouble for bringing you, a Taoist, back home. "Follow me!"

Before too long, the Myouren Temple comes into view, the gates easily visible through the trees. It's exceptionally big for a Buddhist temple—every time you see it, you could swear it gets larger. Perhaps they're expanding. Perhaps they've gained even more followers, or perhaps you're imagining it. You make a mental note to discuss it with Taishi-sama later and see what she thinks.

"I gotta finish up the cleaning, but you know where Ichirin's room is, right?" the yamabiko asks.

"Indeed."

"Okay, um, bye then!" With that, she's gone, darting into the temple's center courtyard. You follow her at a slower pace, taking the longer route to Ichirin's quarters rather than cutting through the inside of the temple. Though Ichirin's had you over many times, you're still a bit wary around some of the people who live with her, and you have more than a slight feeling that it's mutual. It made you incredibly nervous at first—on top of being in a Buddhist temple, you were surrounded by people that seemed to hate you—but Ichirin was there, and she held your hand and comforted you, and everything was alright. It always is, with her.

 

Ichirin's room is welcoming, much more so than any bedroom you've ever seen before. It's filled with flowers, little potted plants on every surface that she individually cares for. Each and every blossom is under her delicate supervision, each and every plant positioned just so, facing the light according to its needs. You asked her once how she keeps track, and she'd laughed and said "I just know!"

Perhaps it's like your feng shui. You can't think about it, you can't explain it. You just know.

(Ichirin's room has very good feng shui.)

"Pardon mine intrusion," you say softly, sliding her door open and slipping your shoes off on the porch outside. Unzan gives you a nod from where he's floating, next to the pile of blankets in the middle of the floor, before dissipating into a thin pink mist and vanishing under the door into the main temple. He knows Ichirin likes to be alone with you, and he knows you're not a threat. 

"Futo-chan," Ichirin says from under the covers, thick with sleep but happy. "You'll get sick..."

"Shikaisen do not bear human illness," you reply, removing your hat and setting it down by her bedside. You unlace your heavy overshirt next, folding it crookedly and placing it on the floor. "May I?"

"Mmhm," she says. So you slide yourself in next to her, your arms circling her body. She sighs and adjusts herself to hug you back, holding you close. She's at eye level now, your faces only a breath apart. "Hi."

"Hello," you reply warmly, pressing the tip of your nose lightly against hers. She giggles and squeezes you tighter in response.

"Futo-chan."

"Hmm?"

"Oh, nothing, just... I'm glad you're here." Her eyes close in relaxation, and she buries her face against your chest.

"'Tis my pleasure," you reply, stroking your hands across her back. 

"Mmhm," she mumbles. Within minutes, she's asleep again.

You press your hand to her forehead. She's hot, her skin flush. It reminds you too much of how Taishi-sama used to get sick like that, before she was sealed away in the Hall of Dreams with you and her wife. Cinnabar sickness. Mercury poisoning. Everyone knew she was dying.

Ichirin is not dying. But your imagination has always been overactive.

You draw her close to you, holding her body up against yours. For all she's given you, it's the least you can do to never let her go.

 

The late afternoon light is rich and gold, filtering through the paper door and making you squint. Did you fall asleep? You're warm, relaxed, heavy, and it is no longer morning.

Beside you, Ichirin sniffles. "Futo-chan," she mumbles.

"How art thou feeling?"

"Ugh," she groans, then coughs hard. "Everything hurts."

"Is there any way I may assist thee?"

She murmurs wordlessly into your chest. "Can I have some water?"

"Verily," you say.

"Not now, though."

"What?"

"I'm warm."

"As am I."

She curls closer to you. "Will you stay with me?"

You grin, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "Always."


End file.
